


I Hate You to my Bones

by tyzvlas



Category: Asoiaf - Fandom, game of thrones
Genre: F/M, VIKINGS AU, idk how to write smut, this is so bad i’m sorry, yes jon’s viking dick is dirty don’t question it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 15:23:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyzvlas/pseuds/tyzvlas
Summary: “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I hate you to my bones, and I hate you in the deepest parts of the seas. I hate you in the sky all the way to the moon, and I hate you in the stars.” Jon doubled over in laughter.- - -For Mani





	I Hate You to my Bones

Sansa dreamed her whole life of a relatively normal wedding. She had hoped that her father would betroth her to a handsome lord from other parts of England, or even Francia. 

Needless to say, her wedding did not go the way she’d dreamed. Her father had betrothed her to a Northman, the savages that had raided their shores for over twenty years. Sansa’s mother had died in a siege because of his kind, but he had assured her that his people had nothing to do with that. The savage in question that she was forced to marry was about one and a half heads taller than her, with hair longer than most men and an unshaven beard. He was more lean than muscular, but still strong enough to lift just about anything. 

His Christian name was Jon. Sansa hadn’t bothered to learn his actual name, nor had she bothered to learn his language. It’s not that she thought he was below her; he was a king in his own right, but his culture scared her. His Gods frightened her and his language was rough, not like the languages Sansa liked. 

Much to Sansa’s surprise and pleasure, Jon had not tried to consummate the marriage on their first night...or the second third or fourth. They’d been married, unconsummated, for about three months. The idea of consummating this marriage disgusted Sansa, even sharing a bed with the savage was a horrid thought to her. She’d forced him to sleep on a chair or the floor or anywhere but her bed. 

“Would I be allowed to share a bed with my wife?” Jon asked, his arm lightly grazing Sansa’s. She pulled away and looked at him, confused.

“What makes you think you can touch me?” Jon stared at her, his expression softening.

“You are my wife, Lady Sansa.”

“Not by my own choice.” Jon stepped in Sansa’s path as she tried to move away. He grabbed her by the arm.

“We are married. We have not shared a bed since our first night together.” Jon looked almost as if he might cry, which sparked a tightening in Sansa’s chest.

“And we won’t. Not until I am ready.”

“When will that be, my lady?” He had let his arm slowly fall back to his side, allowing Sansa to slip passed him. She was about to walk off when she turned to him, trying to say something, anything, but words wouldn’t come out. She paused for barely a moment to see this man, this savage, look like a scared little boy.

Sansa hurried down the corridor, her dress bunched up in her hands. She didn’t actually know why she was running, or where to, but she found herself in the room she shared with Jon. She threw herself onto the bed and gave an exasperated sigh. 

Sansa hadn’t noticed but she had fallen asleep. She was only woken by her husband slamming the door and what she assumed was cursing in his tongue. She watched as he buried his face in his hands, leaned up against the wall. He stood there for a while, completely still. He still hadn’t noticed she was there. 

She propped herself up on her elbows to look at him. It was dark outside already, the full moon shining through the crack of a window giving the slightest bit of sight to her in the otherwise completely dark room. Sansa’s chest started to fall up and down more quickly now, and her jaw locked tightly. The pit in her stomach grew larger and larger as each moment passed, and her chest tightened. He eventually moved from the door to his chair, but Sansa spoke up before he could sit.

“Wait!” She regretted speaking as soon as it happened. “You...you may sleep in the bed tonight. With me.” He flashed a devilish smirk her way.

“Dear wife, I thought you’d never ask.” He climbed into the large bed with her, his body taking up about three quarters of it. 

“Could you not hog the entire bed, my lord?” She had tried to make it sound sweet but it didn’t really come out that way.

“Would the princess like her own chambers? Are these not good enough for the most important woman in the world?” He stole a pillow out from under her.

“Well now you’re just being rude.”

“Am I?” He propped himself up on his elbow and looked into her. “You seem to be the most important person around here.” His voice softened, and she turned to look him in the eyes.

“That’s not true. I was sold like a broodmare to you, no one cares.”

“I do. And you’re not a broodmare, you’re my wife. This might not be everything you ever wanted, but I would never do you harm.” Sansa put her hand on top of his, a small gesture that was impossible to do before.

She turned to her side, away from Jon, but couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it was her nerves, perhaps it was the nap she had taken, but something was keeping her awake. She could feel that Jon was awake too, his breathing unsteady and nine of his usual snoring. After about an hour of this, Sansa finally broke the silence. 

“I know you’re not asleep.”

“Well it seems you aren’t either, my lady.” They both turned to face each other once again, this time Sansa sat upright, with Jon still on his side. 

“I still hate you, you know.” Jon chuckled.

“For some reason,” he sat up as she had, towering over her, “I don’t think I believe you.”

Giggling, Sansa said, “you filthy wretch! A true lady never tells a lie. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I hate you to my bones, and I hate you in the deepest parts of the seas. I hate you in the sky all the way to the moon, and I hate you in the stars.” Jon doubled over in laughter. 

“Was that meant to make me feel upset, Lady Sansa?”

“Well maybe a little bit, yes,” she replied, biting in her nails.

“No wonder neither of us can sleep, we aren’t in sleeping attire.” He slipped out of bed slowly. “You can turn away if you’d like, my lady.”

“Why would I do that, husband?” He slipped his shirt over his head, exposing a scarred and muscly abdomen. 

“Your scars...” Sansa slid to the edge of the bed on his side, where he was standing. She slipped her hand over his chest, feeling every single scar on his body. “How did you get so many?” 

He leaned inward, until she was lying down on the bed, his face inches from hers. “War is unlike anything you’ve ever seen, my lady. Men and boys die, women and children starve in cities under siege, and men like me get scars like this.” 

Sansa swallowed the lump in her throat. “I know the repercussions of a siege all too well, Jon. How do you think my mother died?” Sansa closed her eyes to keep the tears back and jerked her head away from his, but his hand came up to keep it in place.

“Sansa, you were a means to an end. You were the only way for me to end this war, I need you to understand that. I need you to understand that I never wanted this either, that I had someone that I loved, that you weren’t the only one making a sacrifice here, and that you are now my last hope for happiness.” He got up from on top of her, but Sansa continued to lay there. “I came from nothing, my lady. Love got me where I am. Her family built me up from nothing to who I am now. Her name gave me everything I had, and I had to betray her to stop this madness, to save her.” His voice started to crack then, and tears fell to the ground in twos and threes. “I know you hate me but please, please try and understand. I gave up everything for you, and I want us to be happy.” 

Sansa rose from the bed and lightly touched his cheek, standing in her tip-toes to do so. “We can be happy,” she successfully held back all of her tears, “I promise.” Sansa wiped the tears from his face, and slowly unlaced her bodice.

Jon placed a large hand in her waist, stopping the bodice from hitting the floor. “Are you sure?” She touched his cheek and his eyes met hers, broken and full of regret.

“No. But I don’t think I care.” His hand fell from her waist and the bodice slipped to the floor. All that was between her and Jon was silk and his leather trousers. 

Her hands fell to the laces of his trousers and his cupped her head, the messy braid from earlier in the day becoming messier. She paused for a moment to completely let her red hair fall down her back. His hands when back to her head as he leaned down to kiss her - the second kiss. Their first was unwanted and quick at the altar, but this one was so much different. It was full of passion, anticipation, sadness, and hope.

Sansa’s sleeves fell off of her shoulders as Jon continued to kiss her. She backed into the bed and they paused again as she sat down. 

“Sansa, do you want this? Do you really want this or are you just trying to convince yourself you do?” He leaned on top of her again, maneuvering them on the bed, his legs between hers.

“I do want this.”

“And what exactly is it? What do you want?” He flashed the smirk at her again, and she would’ve slapped him if there wasn’t a large weight on her chest in that moment. 

“I want you to take my virtue, Jon.” Her hands went back to his face, and she stared again into his sad eyes, his eyes were always sad, but right now they seemed sadder than before. “Why are you sad?”

His head fell and hung from his neck. “This is what I’ve wanted the whole time. For you to open your legs to me and for there to be the possibility of my own son, but for some reason it doesn’t feel right. You have the same hair as her, maybe that’s why. It feels almost like deja vu, with me here on top of you.”

“Don’t think of her. I’m here, right now. She’s gone, but I am here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I just don’t think I can do this right now.” He fell over next to her with a deep sigh. 

“Then we shall wait some more.” Sansa rested her head on his scarred chest and was finally able to sleep with him next to her.

\- - - 

In the following days, Jon had grown increasingly close and sweet to her. He would go to the gardens for hours to pick her the prettiest flowers he could find, and had even had a new fur cloak made for her for the winter. Their nights were better as well, silent, but better. They hadn’t had a proper conversation since that night, but every night they laid together until each had fallen asleep. Her father had also noticed a shift in their behavior.

“Have you started to love the heathen, my child,” he had said to her one day after a dinner where Jon and Sansa were particularly close.

“Love, perhaps not. More like understanding.”

“My dear, when will you be giving me grandchildren?” It made Sansa chuckle and kiss her father on the cheek.

“Soon, perhaps.” 

That night, they had another real conversation. 

They were both reading silently and stealing glances at each other after dinner when Jon, out of nowhere, said, “You don’t look much like your father, Sansa.” The question hit her like a book to the face, but there was no way he could have known the subject area. 

“I look more like my mother. They say that I look exactly like her, though I wouldn’t know.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up your mother.”

“It’s alright. Talking about her helps sometimes.” He put his book down on the table next to him. “She died when I was two, during the first attacks of the capital.”

“By my people.”

“Yes, by your people. My father bankrupted the kingdom with Danegelds, and when they tried to take the city, everyone starved. I was still on the breast and my mother starved herself to feed me.” Her voice started cracking, but she managed to suppress her tears. “They say she was all a lady should be, and more. They say that she cared for the poorest, the sickest, the richest, and the healthiest. I try to live up to her legacy.” Jon kneeled next to Sansa’s seat and held her small hands in his large ones.

“You will, I believe in you. You’ll be a great lady someday.” Sansa cupped his face and kissed him softly on the lips. 

“I hope so.” They both stood up in unison, and he tenderly kissed her on the forehead.

“Sansa, I think I’m ready.” 

Sansa’s first though at this was, how inconvenient. The last time they had tried, they were both wearing casual clothes that required no effort to slip in and out of, but today they were wearing formal wear. Sansa had on a full length gown with a ring skirt and a corset tied tight underneath a large overcoat, and Jon wore a cloak and mail. 

“Well you’re going to have to undress yourself because I wouldn’t know where to start with this,” she said, eying him up and down.

Jon only responded, “likewise.”

They each got undressed; fully this time. For the first time they saw each other completely naked. It wasn’t nearly as dark as it was the last time, so Sansa saw every scar on his chest more clearly, and even saw some more on his arms. After hesitating for about a minute just looking at each other, Sansa made the first move in swiftly moving across the room toward him, standing on her tip-toes to kiss him, her hands running along his scars. He again buried his hands in her hair, softly pulling it as she lightly moaned into his mouth. 

He pushed her roughly onto the bed and fell on top of her. The feeling of his skin against hers was a foreign one, yet a completely welcome one. His hand went down to the wetness between her legs, and he started trailing kisses down her neck. She moaned, louder this time, as his hand moved in and out of her, and around her clit. 

He entered her slowly, trying not to hurt her, and his lips moved back to her mouth. It did hurt at first; and her ladies had warned her about this, especially since Jon was so large the first time was bound to hurt, but it was a welcome pain. 

He started moving rhythmically in and out of her, occasionally whispering her name into her ear, which made the experience all the more pleasing. Their breaths got more rapid as they both came closer to finishing, and Jon whispered her name again, but this time as a question. 

“Sansa?”

Between breaths she responded, “yes Jon?”

“I love you.” With that, they both came, and she felt the warmth inside of her.

Panting, Sansa replied, “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I told y’all I wasn’t a theonsa eat well


End file.
